


Flaws in the Ice

by MondoMamaBrains



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 09:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MondoMamaBrains/pseuds/MondoMamaBrains
Summary: Hawke and Anders find themselves in an icy cave, and the situation quickly becomes dire.





	Flaws in the Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kitsunebaba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsunebaba/gifts).



> A short Handers fic for my half of the 2018 Handers Reverse Big Bang! I was paired with the lovely Kitsunebaba, who provided a gorgeous picture of Hawke and Anders wandering through an icy cave!
> 
> You can find the picture, as well as a second story written by another author here:  
> http://kitsunebaba.tumblr.com/post/175232887025/my-entry-for-the-handers-reverse-bang-i-got-two

She surfaced from nothingness with a gasp, frigid air rushing into burning lungs. Pinpricks of light exploded into blinding novae, which twinkled and dissipated, replaced by Anders’ worried face hovering above her. Wet streaks shone on his cheeks – he was crying. Why was he crying? Her arm felt like it was miles away from her mind, but she summoned what energy she could to reach up and wipe some of the tears from his cheeks. He smiled and made a sound that was caught between a laugh and a sob. “Thank the Maker,” he whispered.

And promptly collapsed.

Hawke sat up faster than she would have thought herself capable of, just in time to catch Anders in an awkward hug before he could crack his head on the icy ground. “Anders? Anders! Justice?” She gently shook the man. No reaction. Quelling her rising panic, she placed two fingers under his chin and searched for a pulse. She found one; slow and stuttering, but there. His shallow breaths released small puffs of fog into the air. Unconscious, but alive. Breathing deeply to uncoil the instinctive fear wrapped around her chest, she looked around, taking inventory of the situation, trying to jog her memory.

The enormous dragon corpse was a big hint.

Memories trickled into her consciousness: The missing excavation scouts, Varric’s letter asking for help, the promise of ample reward. They had come here looking for trouble, but unaware of just how much they would find. Nothing had prepared them to stumble upon a high dragon lurking in the belly of the cave. Surely not a challenge for two well-trained mages, she had thought. Overconfidence had always been one of her many flaws. She remembered the creature shrieking and flailing in its death throes. She remembered a heavy tail connecting with her chest, sending her flying. She remembered an eruption of pain and a sickening crunch, though she couldn’t be sure if they had happened in that order. And then, nothing.

It was enough to put the rest of the pieces together. She should have been dead, or at least on her way, but she wasn’t. There was no reminder of the injury but the ghost of a dull ache in her ribs, which meant… Anders had used whatever mana he had left heal her. That explained the unconscious mage in her lap. She had seen it a few times before, when Anders had overextended himself to heal their companions, sapping himself of all vitality. He could be infuriatingly self-sacrificing that way. Usually he would be fine after some supervised rest, but…

Hawke pulled off her fur-lined glove with her teeth and pressed her bare palm to Anders’ face. He was deathly cold. His body had begun shivering weakly against her, a last desperate effort to stave off hypothermia.  She leaned back so that she could inspect him. He was wounded, but not badly. The front of his coat was in tatters and blood oozed out of shallow cuts across his chest. What was more concerning was the cold. They couldn’t stay like this.

Pulling Anders back to her to offer whatever body heat she could, she weighed their options. Her mana reserves were still low from the fight, but she had more than enough to start a fire to warm them until Anders came to.

The strained moan that echoed through the cavern presented an obvious argument. Looking around, she could see that their battle had created deep, branching cracks in the ice of the cave, the byproducts of rogue spells and crashing claws. Hawke had serious concerns about the structural integrity of the cavern. She had little working knowledge of such things, but she didn’t want to find out what a little more melt would do. That left only one option.

Heaving her own groan, Hawke pulled both of Anders arms around her shoulders and turned with some effort in his grip. Her hands found his thighs and she hoisted him onto her back as she climbed laboriously to her feet.  
  
“C’mon Anders, let’s get out of here,”

 

* * *

 

 

“The next time I see Varric I’m going to kill him,” Hawke proclaimed with a forced attempt at joviality. “I bet this was all some elaborate scheme to get material for the sequel to ‘Tale of the Champion’.” Anders didn’t reply. She didn’t really expect him to – he was still unconscious, dead weight on her back. Talking to him just made her feel better. There was a measure of comfort to be found in pretending that he could hear her. If he had been able to, though, he would have heard the terrified edge to her laughter.

Traversing the cave had been a slow and arduous process. The layers of ice shielding the ground provided no traction for her boots, and the added weight of Anders made her unsteady on her feet. At least once she had hit a particularly slick patch and pitched forward, barely preventing herself from face-planting into the ice with Anders on top of her. If it had happened twice, or three times, no one needed to know. While Anders’ form was not nearly as heavy as it should have been, carrying him on her back was awkward and unwieldly, especially in the narrower passageways that required her to walk sideways to squeeze through them. For once in her life, she wasn’t chastising Anders for how thin and bony he had let himself become.

The worst, though, were the tendrils of suspicion writhing in her gut, more pervasive and insidious even than the cold gnawing at her bones. She tried to suppress it, ignore it, beat it back by force. She counted breaths, footsteps, stalactites, anything to keep her mind away from it. But whenever she let her thoughts wander, even for a moment, there it was: She was lost.

 

* * *

 

 

“Maker’s sweaty balls!” She cursed, her voice bouncing off the frozen walls and returning to her. Another empty room filled with ice and no recognizable landmarks. Had she been here before? For all she knew she could have been wandering in circles for hours. After being sure she had passed through the same locus of passageways several times, she had started trying to mark her trail. Doing so with Anders in tow was difficult, though, and more than once the oppressive darkness of some of the corridors had prevented her from seeing her own markings. With what magic she could pull from the air, she had summoned a wisp of light to her hand and had been using it to guide their path.

Anders was shivering even harder now, and she could almost hear his bones knocking together. She clutched him tighter to her and attempted to soothe him with comforting words. It did little good. “Just a few minutes more, Anders,” she promised, though the reassurance rang as hollow as she was starting to feel. “Just hang on a little longer, okay love?”

How much longer, though? How much longer would Anders have if they didn’t find somewhere warm? What if she was too late, like she had been for so, so many people before him?

_No_. They were not going to die here. They had been through too much, _survived_ too much, to quietly freeze to death in some Maker-forsaken labyrinth of ice and stone. There was no way they were going to end their days here. She wouldn’t let them. They would see the light of day again if it took every last breath in her body.

Resolve steeled, she made up her mind and veered down the path to the far left, making an “X” in the frost with her foot to mark her path.

They hadn’t made it far when the skittering started. At first Hawke thought it might just be the crunch of broken ice under her feet, but the further she walked the more unmistakable it became. They weren’t alone. She doused the light in her palm and listened intently. It was getting closer, closer, closer. She held her breath, edging along the corridor until she saw them. Bright, luminous eyes in the darkness, moving towards her, and fast. She threw out her hand and flooded the corridor with light.

Dragonlings. Dozens of them. Charging toward them. “Shit, shit, shit!” Hawke spat, turning on her heels so fast she almost tripped, barely able to catch herself against the wall for support. She sprinted a few steps before realizing there was no way to outrun them. With a snarl she rounded again ready to fight like a mabari, even against such impossible odds.

The dragonlings surged forward and… parted around her like water. They barely even spared Hawke a passing glance as they scrabbled back the way she had come. “What in the-” that was when the rumbling started. “ _Fuck!_ ” She watched in horror as, further down the passage, ice and rock and snow began to collapse inward, shaking the ground violently. Turning on her heels for the third time, Hawke ran as fast as her legs would carry the both of them. Her muscles screamed in protest and her lungs burned as she gulped down air, but she didn’t dare to stop. She forced herself to focus on the breach in the darkness that was the tunnels entrance.

Fifteen meters away, then ten, then seven. So, so, _so_ close. Almost there. Almost there.

Another mighty tremor threw Hawke from her feet and onto the ground, knocking her jaw on the hard ice. With no time to think, she rolled over to cover Anders with her body and put her hands over her head, bracing for the impact.  
  
The impact that never came.

A minute passed, and Hawke opened her eyes. If she believed in the Maker, she would have been sure it was His doing. The last mighty heave had managed to throw her just past the mouth of the corridor and into the larger vaulted chamber she had come from. The stalactites and icicles overhead shook but did not fall. Looking behind her, she saw the passage where she had been standing just moments ago was now filled with snow and rock.

“Well,” She breathed, her voice hoarse from exertion, “I guess we’re not going that way.”

 

* * *

 

Anders had stopped shivering now, and somehow that was even worse. The clouds of condensation coming from his mouth grew smaller and smaller, and, though it was difficult to tell in the dim light, his lips were starting to take on an uncomfortable blue tint.

Hawke was tired, so tired. She had given up trying to guess how long she had been walking. The better half of a day, probably, but it might as well have been years. She had allowed herself to stop once or twice to catch her breath, but otherwise pushed forward, stubbornly ignoring her body’s protest. Obstinance was another one of her flaws.

In this instance, however, it appeared to be paying off. She hadn’t passed her own markings in a while, and the path ahead had begun to straighten out and angle upwards. It was even starting to look a bit lighter, though perhaps that was just her eyes adjusting. She kept her hand lit, either way. Were things starting to look familiar, or was the desperation eating away at her mind?

She fought back the hope welling in her chest until she stepped out of the latest tunnel and into an unforgettable grotto. Before them stretched a frozen lake; lapping water encased in layers of ice that left the entire room with a cast of ethereal, lyrium-blue. And beyond the lake, a funnel of fading sunlight reaching through an opening towards them, its scant rays reflecting throughout room and infusing it with a dancing glow.

It had been beautiful when they had first seen it at the start of their journey. It looked like a scene straight out of the fade, or perhaps one of Varric’s more flowery tales. It had been breathtaking then. Now, it was just one more obstacle, the only thing standing between them and freedom.

When entering, she and Anders had skirted around the edge of the lake, backs flat against the walls. With Anders still draped over her back, however, she doubted she could manage such subtlety. She would have to hope the ice was strong enough to support both their weights. Inhaling sharply, she nudged one foot onto the ice. Slowly, and with bated breath, she eased her weight down on it.

Nothing. No movement. She couldn’t contain her sigh of relief. Still treading carefully, she began her slow slide across the lake. The ice was so slippery here that she more shuffled than walked to maintain her footing. The further she got, though, the surer her steps became. They had made it. They were home free.

_CRACK_

The hideous sound of splitting ice filled Hawke’s ears and reawakened the dread that had been so recently lulled to sleep. She looked down to see spiderwebs of cracks blossoming outward from beneath her foot. “Oh damn.”

With every ounce of energy she had left, she dashed, the pounding of her pulse in her ears drowning out the screaming of the ice rending apart behind her. One foot caught, smashing straight through the ice into the frigid water, but she somehow managed to keep her balance. The cracks were chasing her towards the edge of the lake and even a second’s hesitation could send them both into the cold embrace of the water below. Ignoring the squelching of her soaked boot, she pushed forward, not daring to look behind her. _C’mon. So close. So damn close. Can’t stop here. Not when I can_ see _it right in front of me!_

The fractures were almost beneath her now and, acting on instinct, she launched herself forward. Her hands slammed against something hard sharp, catching her and Anders. Gravel! She scrambled forward on her hands and knees until she had pulled herself entirely free of the lake, just as the water started to seep up through the fissures in the ice beneath her legs.

Breathing like a packhorse, Hawke pulled herself and Anders upward once more. This time using one arm to support one of his legs and wrapping her free hand around his, lacing their fingers together. “We made it, love,” she almost laughed as she dragged them both towards the light – towards safety, towards hope.

 

* * *

 

Anders awoke to the crackling of fire and the caress of warm air against his cheek. He was exhausted, and every part of him ached, but through his indominable will he forced his eyes open. He was lying in front of a campfire, wrapped in the heavy wool blanket Hawke kept in her pack. There was a bedroll beneath him, but stones still poked at his ribs through it. His head was rested on something soft that smelled comfortingly of Hawke.

Hawke!

He rolled from his side onto his back to see Hawke grinning down at him from where his head lay in her lap. “Morning, princess!” She greeted, as carefree as ever. He hazily wondered if there was anything in the Maker’s world that could rattle her. As his vision came into focus he could see her more clearly – her hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, a fresh bruise blooming on her chin. She was beautiful. He opened his mouth to tell her this, but all that came out was an undignified groan.

Hawke laughed and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately. “Nap was that good, huh?”

“Mmmph,” he responded, reacquainting himself with the way his tongue fit in his mouth, “Wha’ happened to your chin?” Were the first words he could manage.

Hawke tapped the purplish skin, “Oh this? Just a souvenir from the daring and very impressive escape I made from a dragon’s lair.”

Anders snorted disbelievingly but couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. “I love you, you know that?”

“You’d better,” Hawke volleyed back, but the warmth in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. There was a twinge of something in her face, a shadow of fear long past. He didn’t know what to make of it, so he didn’t try.

The hand that had been stroking his hair moved to his cheek, where her thumb rubbed gentle circles. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” she murmured, words so light and fragile he had trouble believing they came from her mouth. “I thought… I was afraid- I was worried about you.”

He leaned into the warmth of her hand. “I’m sorry for worrying you love,” he said, closing his eyes. He had brought enough pain and worry into her life already, without adding any more on top of it. For the umpteenth time he thought that he didn’t deserve her, but he knew that telling her this would just provoke another lecture. Instead, he opened his eyes to look up at her and said, “You know, if this was one of Varric’s stories, you would have woken me with a kiss.”

This time Hawke’s laugh was more heartfelt. “You’re absolutely right,” she said and, despite the ungainliness of their positions, leaned down to press a soft kiss to his mouth. His lips tried to follow hers when she broke the kiss, but she pulled just far enough away to whisper, “We’ll just fudge the details.” A flair for the dramatic was another one of her flaws.


End file.
